Barswa

By Michael Brost, year 2000.

The first thing that strikes you is green. Never have you seen so much of it.
Tall trees bristling with emerald leaves. Fields of flowing grasses, rampant with
insects and swooping birds. Vines growing and crawling upwards, downwards, sideways,
just everywhere. Even the distant mountains on the horizon are a dark green.
Looking upwards you will see a crystal clear blue sky, with one single fluffy
white cloud drifting across it. Off in the distance, tiny v's can be seen, as a flock
of ducks soar towards some as of yet unknown lake. A breeze cool, yet warming moves the
cloud back and forth across the sky, toying with it.
Coming back down to earth, you would now regard the brown dirt-covered path you stand upon.
It disappears into the forest you stand before, adding one more color to the palette.
The sun peeks delicately into the forest, illuminating a squirrel darting from a gray oak to
a pale birch. Far off into the forest, you might catch a glimpse of a hazel form darting
across the path.
Now, looking back behind you, the open expanse of fields is set under that same
perfect sky. The breeze sweeps the long grasses back and forth rhythmically. Gradually
those grasses turn into the pine-covered mountains in the distance.

And now you remember to breathe.

After your eyes have narrowed a little from their previous wide-eyed awe, you
notice the staff you hold in your right hand and the book in your left one. Your right
holds a tarnished walking staff, topped by a single reddish hawk feather. Looking at
the book, you will notice the simple black lettering, set against a plain white cover.
It reads "Guide to Barswa, land of Wonder." Land of Wonder? Barswa? Where am I?

And then you open your eyes.

Now you see pale-blue carpeting. You are seated in your favorite chair at home. A
brightly-lit window reveals to you a waving tree set against another crystal sky. In
your hands lies the book.

Hmmm, maybe I should look this over. But first . . .

You put on your shoes, grab your feathered staff, and go for a walk. Why not enjoy
the world?

The aforementioned land is Barswa. It exists entirely in the mind. Remember
day dreaming about such places? Well, that's my refuge, my source of creativity.
Forests, fields, and a path. The guidebook hasn't been written yet, but give me a
chance and I'll see what I can do. Until then, keep your hat on your head, comfortable
shoes on your feet, and staff in hand.

I'm going for a walk.